


Everything That Happened

by J_33



Category: Person Of Interest - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/F, Post 4x11, Torture, samaritan, team machine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_33/pseuds/J_33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't fall, don't break, don't stop fighting, don't-- </p><p>Sameen Shaw was trying to stay strong, she was trying not to feel all of the pain, but she was dying inside, and everyone breaks eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything That Happened

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first POI fic. Spoilers for everything after 4x11 from Shaws POV. 
> 
> ENJOY:)

She didn’t think, she just did, because that is what soldiers do.

 

Actions are louder than words, and Sameen Shaw was never one for small talk, or long talk, or talking in general. When she did talk it normally contained words that you’d never say in front of your mother – but her mother was gone, and so was her dad.

 

The elevator wasn’t working, and all she could see was the red override button mocking her from across the room. And then she heard Root’s voice, telling her not to go, and then all she could see was the red of Root’s lips.

 

“For God’s sake,” she said, no longer sure what God she was referring to, before kissing Root for the first time, and probably the last.

 

Shaw was never good with goodbyes, so she shoved Root into Fusco’s arms, and left. She closed the elevator, and locked it, hoping that she could keep these people that she called friends, these people that she thinks she would love if she wasn’t so messed up, safe, safe for now.

 

She couldn’t protect her dad, she couldn’t protect Cole, but she could protect them, so as she made her way to the button by the desk, with her gun drawn, she didn’t think about leaving them behind, she didn’t even think about dying, Shaw thought about living for the last time, and living for those who changed her life, and gave her a new one.

 

_Die for something that you love._

The first bullet pierced her skin, and through the smoke, she could see blond hair, which fueled her rage to keep shooting.

 

 _Just keep firing the gun, don’t fall -- don’t fall, dammit_ , she thought because in the end it is your body that fails you, long before your mind gives up.

 

Her trigger finger repeated the motion as if this were all a game. She could hear the shell casings hitting the ground, as she tried to block at the sound of Roots scream, but then the second bullet hit her chest, and she couldn’t help but fall against the force.

 

_Don’t fall, keep fighting, keep—_

 

Blood was pooling out of her forming a red puddle on the tiled floor, and oh how the pain of the bullets hurt like hell, but not as much as the new pain that took its place, as she watched out of the corner of her eye, the elevator doors almost close completely.

 

Root was still screaming, and Shaw could still taste her on her lips, among the copper taste that was growing stronger by the second.

 

She looked up at Martine, and stared at her with everything that she had left because Sameen Shaw didn’t stop fighting, even when she was destined to lose.

 

The barrel of the gun was now aimed at her head, and Shaw knew that there was no way out. No one was coming to save her, but it was better that way. They had prevented the Stock Market from doing any more damage, and people would live to see another day, even as she lay here on the cold ground, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of unlucky Samaritan operatives, while she bled out, losing a life that no one would, aside from the people in the elevator, ever know she lived, and ever know she sacrificed.

 

Sameen Shaw didn’t fear death, so as the edges blurred around of vision, and the elevator door finally shut, she knew that she had completed the mission, which is why she first took this job right?

 

She heard the final sound of a bullet ring out from the gun pointed at her head, and then everything faded away.

 

Only seven lives left.

 

* * *

 

 

Shaw had told Harrold that maybe it was time for a vacation, a break, just for a little while.

 

She wanted to go somewhere warm, like the beach. She remembered when she was eight, and her Dad took her on a road trip on the West Coast. They saw the Grand Cannon, and went to Disney Land in California, and she can’t remember the last time she had been that happy.

 

Now here she was out in the sand, sipping a martini, on the beach, with the sun on her face. Shaw thought she saw Root somewhere. But there was no time to look for her because the waves were growing stronger, and the tide was coming in. She could see the storm clouds in the once blue sky, and hear the rumble of the thunder grow louder. It got so loud that it started to shake around her, and with each roar, Shaw was racked with pain, and the beach scenery was being taken over by a bright, blinding light.

 

“If this is the afterlife, it sucks,” Shaw rasped out in a hoarse voice, dry from lack of use.

 

There was a steady beeping noise that filled her ears. She was dressed in a hospital gown, and was in a dark room, all alone aside from the wrinkled face, that made bile creep up her throat.

 

“I sincerely hope you manage to get some rest, my dear Sameen. You’re going to need it,” Greer said with a smirk on his face.

 

Shaw wanted nothing more than to strangle him with her bare hands, but everything was hazy, and when she tried to move, a sharp pain shot through her body. She decided to close her eyes, and hope this was all a bad dream.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time she wakes up, Shaw doesn’t know how much time has passed.

 

She’s still in the hospital room, and it’s still dark. Her only companion is the beeping of the machines around her monitoring her vitals, at least until the door opens, and none other than Martine Rousseau walks in.

 

Shaw struggles against the zip ties binding her to the hospital bed, as fire runs through her veins despite her weakened state.

 

“You were hard to catch, but I knew I’d find you eventually,” Martine says, standing at the foot of her bed.

 

“I bet you’re pissed you didn’t kill me when you had the chance,” Shaw says, with her hands balled up in fists.

 

“Oh don’t worry, Shaw, I’ll get my chance eventually,” Martine says.

 

“You wish,” Shaw says, a small smirk on her lips.

 

“If I were you, I’d save your wishes,” says Martine, before walking out of the room, leaving Shaw all alone once again.

 

* * *

 

 

Her body was failing her.

 

Shaw didn’t know how long the electricity had been shooting through her frame, racking her body with tremors. All she could see was Martine’s blood hair, and her wicked smile growing every time she turned the dial further, and further until…

 

_Don’t fall, don’t break, don’t stop fighting, don’t--_

Her heart was beating too fast, her hands were shaking, her wrists drawing blood from against the binds.

 

A scream roared out from the back of her throat, and then all of a sudden the electricity stopped, and all that was left was the stupid grin on the blonds face, right before Shaw succumbed to unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

Shaw didn’t have feelings. A girl with fiery red hair once told her that she did, the volume was just turned way down, but she could feel if she listened hard enough.

 

Maybe Gen was right. Maybe deep down Shaw could feel more than anger, she could feel more than pain.

 

_Maybe someday?_

_Yeah, sure, maybe someday Root. Is that good enough for you?_

Right now, none of that mattered. Right now Sameen Shaw was forcing those hypothetical, possible feelings under a rock, burying them deep under logic, and hiding them behind a wall. She wouldn’t, no, she couldn’t let Samaritan make her feel, because feelings are weak – they make people weak, they trick people into making stupid decisions, and falling into a trap.

 

Shaw always prided herself on being stoic, unaffected by the tragedy of life. So right now, she focused on staying angry at Greer, Martine, and all of Samaritan, because anger gave her purpose, and made the fight worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes she saw Root in her dreams, but it was getting harder and harder to remember her voice, and her face. Sometimes, John, Finch, and even Fusco joined her on her beach vacation, but they too were fading.

 

She woke up wondering if the feeling was mutual. Shaw wasn’t positive how much time had passed. Samaritan didn’t give her the luxury of keeping a clock in her cell, but she knew that enough time had passed for them to move on.

 

If they hadn’t found her by now, they probably never were going to.

 

_I want to hold out hope, but hope is painful._

Shaw hoped that they were able to move on. She hoped that the Machine still gave them numbers, and that they still had that eternal will to help those in need of it. If Shaw could feel, maybe she would feel bad for them. Yes, she was the one being tortured for information, but physical pain can be handled, it can be dealt with, and after away it always fades away, into forgotten scars.

 

It is the emotional pain that haunts you like a ghost who is not yet ready to go to the other side. She wondered if Root went back to her old ways, if she was still working with the team. She wondered if Reese had found someone to share is pain with, like a covalent bond, all he needs is the comfort of not being alone in this cruel world. She wondered if Finch will forgive the machine, because people are so much more than pawns in a game. She wondered how old Fuscos son is. She wondered if anyone was paying attention to Bear.

         

Lastly Shaw wondered if they will forget her. She didn’t care about being remembered, but once you spend as much time in solitude as she has, you start to give all deep and shit. Shaw didn’t see herself as a hero, and she didn’t want to be remembered as one, but she didn’t want to be forgotten either. There’s something about being forgotten that makes her _feel—_

\--like she’s already died.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sameen, you’re really making this more difficult than it has to be,” Greer stated. “If you would just tell us how you communicate with the Machine, we can handle this much more passively.”

 

“Obviously you know nothing about this thing called loyalty,” Shaw stammered out.

 

The spots where she had been shot were sickly inflamed, and throbbing the more Martine punched her in the gut. Shaw’s lip was busted, and she was starting to get dangerously dizzy, but she enjoyed this sort of thing… right?

 

“ _Loyalty?_ Quite ironic coming from you,” Greer said with a small huff of laughter. “Open your eyes. You’re here while the people you call friends go about their life. They have stopped looking for you, and have accepted your own fate, while you remain loyal to them – to a God that chose you to fall for the cause – that deemed you not worth saving. From my perspective, you’re all alone now. You have nothing to remain loyal too, so why, why do you protect those who don’t give a damn about what happens to you?” he asked.

 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Shaw said.

 

“Humor us,” Martine said with a smirk.

 

“I’m glad they can’t find me because if they can’t find me, it means you can’t find them. Now, you can trick me into thinking they don’t care, and hell, maybe they don’t but I’d rather be helping them, then be helping the devil” Shaw said through the pain.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that Sameen, but, unfortunately for you, that decisions lays in our hands,” Greer said, before getting up from the chair he was sitting in. “Sweet dreams, my dear,” he said, before Martine plunged a needle into her IV, and warm fluid rushed through her veins, forcing her eyes shut.

 

Shaw was left feeling helpless once again.

 

* * *

 

 

A person can only take so much before they finally break.

 

Shaw was strapped down, half conscience. She had just been water boarded for what felt like years. Her throat felt raw, and dry, and her head felt foggier than usual.

 

Then she saw her. Brown hair, blurry face, but it had to be Root, it had to be.

 

“You finally came,” Shaw choked out with a weak smile.

 

“I couldn’t leave you,” Root said back.

 

Suddenly, Shaw started struggling against the binds. “You shouldn’t have come. They’re going to kill you, they’re--,” she said, the fear creeping up into her voice.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. How much do they know? Did you tell them how I contact the Machine?” Root asked.

 

“I didn’t tell them about your cochlear implant,” Shaw said.

 

“Good, good,” Root stated, writing something down.

 

“What are you doing? We need to leave,” Shaw started, but Root had put down the pad and pencil and was picking something else up.

 

It was a syringe, and she was sticking it into her IV.

 

“Stop! No! We’re running out of time,” Shaw screamed in protest, but it was to no avail.

 

“No, we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetie.”

 

The last thing Shaw saw was Root’s face blurring into Martine’s.

 

* * *

 

 

After Shaw woke up from yet another hallucination, she didn’t know what was real. So when she struggled against the binds that held her down to the bloody hospital bed where she spent most her days, she was surprised to see that they felt looser than normal.

 

Not only were they lose, but even in her weakened state, she was able to get free. Standing from the bed abruptly, a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, and her vision went black for a split second. Shaw felt extremely nauseous, and her legs felt like they might give out at any given moment, but after taking a deep breath, she found herself navigating through the dark room.

 

She felt what appeared to be the handle to a door, and when she turned it, it opened. The light blinded her at first, but she kept moving forwards, even though she knew that there was a high chance that this was all some big trap.

 

_Second chances are overrated, Harold._

After walking for a few minutes, Shaw made her way into what looked like a storage room, and there was a phone on one of the shelves. She quickly picked it up without thinking, and dialed a number she never thought she’d need again. It rung, and then she heard a voice that she never thought she’d hear again.

 

“Hello?” Root said.

 

“Root, it’s me, I need your help, I--,” Shaw stuttered but before she could finish, she felt something sharp prick her shoulder, as the line went dead.

 

She turned around just in time to see Martine, in front of two large looking Samaritan agents, before she fell to the ground as some unknown poison paralyzed her muscles, while her mined stayed alert.

 

“I called her, they’re going to come--,” she said, trying to fight against the two men who were dragging her back to her chamber of doom.

 

“Shaw this is pathetic, even for you. Do you really think we would just unlock your door, and lead you right to a phone, and let you call for help,” Martine said in that stupid voice that made Shaw want nothing more than to snap her neck.

 

“No…” she said, realization filling her voice.

 

“That’s right. Your little girlfriend is going to fall right into a trap, all because of you.”

 

“I’m going to kill you!” Shaw screamed as loud as she could.

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Martine said.

 

Shaw was than strapped back down to the hospital bed, she had just escaped, to await her unstoppable fate.

 

* * *

 

 

<DUTY>

<ORDER>

<CORRECTION>

<OBDIENCE>

 

The longer Shaw stared at the white screen in front of her, the harder it became to ignore the words forcing their prints on her brain. The multiple drugs coursing through her veins were no help to distract her from what they were turning her into.

 

<DUTY>

<ORDER>

<CORRECTION>

 

“Get up!” she was being ordered by a group of agents.

 

They unlocked her chains, and she didn’t fight, she just followed.

 

<OBDIENCE>

 

It cold outside, Shaw noticed, as she walked a snow ridden path to the Black Sedan that would take her somewhere secret, and this time she wouldn’t get a chance to fight back.

 

_~~Don’t fall, don’t break, don’t stop fighting~~ , stop._

 

<DUTY>

<ORDER>

<CORRECTION>

<OBDIENCE>

 

* * *

 

 

Months had passed, and Shaw, after a lot of studious training, had finally been given her orders. Greer wanted her to lock down the house, but when she and a few other of Samaritans operatives arrived they were ambushed. The enemy unknown.

 

She could tell by the silence on her comm that the others were dead, or dying, but she had to complete the mission.

 

_Don’t stop fighting, don’t stop—_

 

It was in the kitchen of the house that Shaw’s mind went blank. Broken plates scattered the floor, shell casings on the counters, and smears of blood on the steel fridge, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the person standing in the middle of the room.

 

“Shaw?” she asked like she had been let down too many times before.

 

“Root?” Shaw asked.

 

“It’s me, it’s--,” but she didn’t get to finish, not before Shaw raised her gun and pointed it at her.

 

“Don’t move,” Shaw ordered.

 

“Sameen, what are you doing? What--,” Root said, the small smile on her face turning into a frown of disbelief and confusion as she raised her hands above her head.

 

“Don’t talk,” Shaw said, her voice raising slightly. “Greer’s going to be so happy when I tell him who I found,” she said, sporting an evil grin.

 

“We’re friends Shaw,” Root replied, a crack in her voice.

 

“No,” Shaw stated, her gun wavering in her usually solid hand. “No we’re not – not anymore.”

 

“I know you Shaw. I know what they did to you, I know that they hurt you, but we can help,” Root said, trying to reason with her.

 

_The thing about Shaw—_

 

“You don’t know anything,” she stated angrily.

 

_\--is she does care._

“I know enough to know that you won’t shoot me.”

 

“Would you bet your life on that?” Shaw said with a smirk.

 

“I know that it we didn’t find you, not in time, and I know that the damage has already been done, and if I could go back in time I wish I could take your place, but I can’t, and it’s too late. I just need you to know that we never stopped looking for you,” Root finished, but Shaw’s grip on her gun only tightened.

 

“None of that matters. I work for Samaritan now – it was there for me when your Machine left me to die,” Shaw said through clenched teeth.

 

“Put down the gun, Shaw,” said the deep voice of John Reese from behind her.

 

“I can’t do that John--,” Shaw started.

 

“Miss Shaw,” Finch said, coming out from behind John. “I know it’s hard to understand right now, but we can help you.”

 

“I don’t need your help,” she said.

 

“Samaritan used you, it abused you, and we’re partly to blame, but I promise you, if you just put down the gun, we can win this war, but we need your help,” Finch stated.

 

“And why would I help you?” Shaw asked.

 

“Because we can offer you something they can’t,” Root said.

 

“What?”

 

“The freedom you deserve,” said Root, looking her straight in the eyes.

 

John then put his gun back in its holster. “What do you say, Shaw?”

 

Shaw slowly lowered the gun, as Root lowered her hands. “How’s the dog?”

 

It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and I plan on writing some more. Fingers crossed that season five isn't the last season, and that Shaw comes back! Leave your feedback in the comments:)


End file.
